Workin'
by Simon920
Summary: Young Dick Grayson in the circus, from a different POV. This is sort of a deathfic, but only very sort of and only in passing. You may read with confidence!


Title: Workin'

Author: Simon

Characters: Dick/OC's

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: A different POV of Dick's early life

Warnings: none—well, language

Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.

Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.

Feedback: Hell, yes.

**Workin'**

Detached, see that's the way you have to approach this work. Honest to God, because if you really start thinking about what you're doing then you may decide it's not the job for you and then where are you? Unemployed, that's where you are.

So a few years ago Joey and I got this assignment. It was just your routine, run of the mill assignment, that's all it was. No big deal. Small potatoes. The kind of stuff we did all the time then stopped for some dinner on the way home. You know how when you do some job for years it all becomes kinda like just another day at the office? Yeah, well, that's what this was. Just another day at the office.

The Boss wanted us to explain to the owner of some flea bitten circus that if he didn't let our organization protect him and his from the stuff that could happen if his people weren't careful, then some bad shit might come down and he wouldn't want that, would he? Hell no. Two hundred a week would cover it, no problem.

Small potatoes, like I said.

So, we drive over to the big empty field over by the docks, near the river—the place these things always set up and there it was—tents, elephants, popcorn stands, a midway, rides—the whole bit and I was sorta thinking maybe Lucy and I would bring the kids over tomorrow to see the show cause she always loved circuses and the kids would get a bang outta it. I try to be thoughtful about stuff like that, y'know? Ladies like that, that thoughtful stuff.

But first Joey and me had work to do.

We go look the place over and it looked like they just about had the thing set up and ready to go. The rides were running here and there, the animals were going through their paces and clowns and jugglers were walking around in makeup and costumes and carrying their gear—what do you call it? Oh yeah, carrying their props around like they were going to do their acts any minute.

No one paid any attention to us, which was the way we wanted it.

People think we always go in with guns blazing or something but that's not the way it works. A lot of the time you just gotta talk to people nice and they kinda see what you mean and then it's all nice and easy. That's the way you hope it's gonna go but the old man who ran the place—we found this crappy trailer he lived in parked over to the side with him doing some paperwork inside—he wasn't interested in what we had to offer and that was a damn shame. He just wasn't buying what we were selling—jerk.

So we get outta the trailer. I step down from the door and started walking but ended up in some kind of elephant or camel shit or something, which Joey thought was pretty funny, but I sure as hell didn't. I got kinda mad and was wiping my shoe off on the grass and there was this kid—maybe eight or nine, about the same age as my Mikey and he was starring at me and kind of laughing. He was wearing a costume so I knew he was one of those circus kids but no one taught him manners because it wasn't funny and I yelled at him when he laughed at me.

Smart-ass kid. Then some woman—a real looker, too—wearing the same kind of costume called him from outside another trailer and he turned to run over, but he was still laughing. I hate kids like that.

So Joey and me leave and call the Boss to report in, y'know? He says, 'So you know what to do, right? So do it."

Well, you know what? I don't know why, but I decided to talk to the old man again before we did what we were being paid to do. There was something, I dunno—he kinda reminded me of my Pop so I thought maybe I'd cut him some slack if he'd listen to reason.

Just offering him some free advice, y'know?

The old bastard didn't even let me say nuthin' and that kinda pissed me off, y'know? Here I was trying to do him a favor and all I get is yelled at for my trouble. Well, fine, Pop, have it your way. You don't want to hear what I was gonna tell you? Fine, you're on your own.

So me and Joey waited around until the dinner break, makin ourselves scarce so no one would see us or think anything was going on. I saw that snotty kid again and he saw me, too—looked straight at me like he was wondering why I was still around but then his father or someone told him to sit down and eat and he kinda lost interest.

Well, you know what happened, right? Everyone was outside eattin their dinner all together like a great big family and Joey and me went inside the tent and cut through some of the ropes for their big trapeze act—the headliners, the ones everyone paid to see. Not all the way through, mind you, cause that would have been too obvious and wouldn't have done what we needed. We just cut like half, maybe two thirds through so they wouldn't break until there was enough weight on them. They'd start their act all nice like, just like any night and think everything was hunky-dory and then—bam—they'd be sawdust salad, y'know?

That would give old Pop something to chew over, y'think?

Sure, it worked out like we planned, pretty much anyway.

The show started and I wasn't even there—no need, y'know? The old man would get the message, all right. So the next day it was in the papers and all over the TV when Lucy was cooking dinner; big accident at the circus, two people killed, their kid left an orphan and blah, blah, blah. They even showed pictures of the kid with some people around him. Y'know how TV is—always going for the cheap shots, the easy tearjerkers. Poor kid left all alone in the world with no one.

Yeah, well, shit happens, kid. Get used to it. And yeah, it was the same snotty kid who'd laughed at me when I stepped in crap yesterday. Talk about paybacks being a bitch, right kid?

So the old man decided to pay, like we knew he would. They always do, y'know?

Lucy saw the news story, too and said how she felt bad for the kid, how he was all alone. He'd end up okay, though—people take care of their own, right? The old man would see he ended up with someone who'd be okay with him. That's how these things work, right?

End of story, right? Yeah, I wish.

Like maybe ten years later Joey and me were doing another job outside of New York—Zucco'd gone down years before but we'd found work with DeLuca doing the same kinda stuff— when this kid flips outta nowhere and lands in my friggin face. And we're not just talkin any kid, right?

This is friggin Robin, the ass end of 'Batman and', y'know?

So he's there and we're there and that wasn't the way I'd planned my evening, y'know? You know what happened, right? Ten to fifteen with no chance of parole, the kid bastard. He testified in court against us which pretty much put the lock on y'know? And so Lucy has to look after the house and the kids by herself for a while. Oh, yeah, sure, I put money away and DeLuca'll take care of her, make sure all the bills get paid and all but shit. You think I'm gonna get to see my kids graduated from high school? Who's gonna walk Connie down the aisle when she gets married?

And the kid, that Robin? You know what he did when the judge read the sentence? He laughed.

I hate snotty kids like that. That kid is ridin for a fall, when I get out, he's ridin for a friggin fall.

12/12/05

4


End file.
